That One Time Michonne Was Wrong
by comewithnattah
Summary: Rick has convinced himself that Michonne is always right. But (judging from the title) this may be that one time she was wrong. I tried my hand with an original character, along with other show faves. Three chapters of Fluff, Smut and more Fluff, respectively.
1. Chapter 1

Rick found that he was so much smarter than he'd ever been before the horrors of the world broke loose. But here and there, he was wrong. It was rare lately, but it still happened… sometimes.

When he married Michonne, he knew he was definitely right. She was unlike any other woman he'd known. One of his favorite things about her was that she had an undefeated record for knowing what to do, when to do it and how. Michonne was always right. Rick never felt diminished by this uncanny ability of hers. If anything, it was his secret weapon more often than he could count. But if he really wanted to know the exact number of times she'd saved his butt, he could just ask Michonne and she'd be right… again.

When Carl was in a mood and Rick wanted to give him an earful, Michonne would say "Nah, just let him stew. He talks to us about everything. He'll talk about whatever's bothering him now… we just have to wait until he's ready." Then, later, when Rick passed by his door to say goodnight, Carl would inevitably say "Dad, can I talk to you about somethin'?" Before Rick could even get his brain to answer his son, he'd think to himself, _she was right_.

Abraham had told Rick how he felt about Sasha and Rick, of course, had immediately told Michonne the 'news' early that morning when he came home from guard duty. Abraham hadn't told anyone else, not even Sasha. So Rick was surprised when Michonne's response lacked the shock that he expected.

Michonne raised her eyebrow, but an unconcerned "Mm." was the only sound she uttered.

"I said Abraham has a thing for Sasha." Rick repeated, waiting for her reaction. She was deep in a paperback book.

"Yeah I know, babe." She replied, cool as tree shade, still immersed in her pages.

Rick could only give a quick snort of disbelief at her calmness. He just stared at her for a second as she sipped her tea and read her book- a crime novel. Rick was sure she had already figured out the ending.

After a few beats, she felt his gaze. "What?" she asked, turning in his direction.

"What?!" he echoed. "There's no way you knew that, 'Chonne."

"I didn't say I knew. I just said Mm." She folded down her page and closed her book, sensing this was turning into a discussion.

Rick gave her an unimpressed glance, "'Mm' means you know. I know what 'Mm' means." He nodded as he agreed with himself, pleased that he knew _that_ much.

She smiled and rolled her eyes, opening her book again, "Well, what do you want me to say? I could tell."

He believed her when she said she knew. He almost asked her how she knew but he thought better of it, knowing his puny mortal brain would never comprehend the mysteries of the universe she kept filed away in her head. He was used to being baffled by Michonne so he moved past her omnipotence and continued with a conversation he had a hope of contributing to- a conversation about a red-headed fool in love with a girl way out of his league.

"He's really smitt'n." Rick grinned as he unbuckled his gun belt, "It would be kinda funny if he actually had a chance with her. I feel sorta bad for him, though."

"Why?" Michonne came out of her book again.

"C'mon 'Chonne. You don't think Sasha's gonna give him the time of day do you?" Rick asked rhetorically, stealing a piece of toast from her saucer.

"I do." She said with surety, draping her elbow over the back of her chair to look him squarely in the eye.

Caught of guard by that declaration, Rick let out a genuine guffaw and bits of bread went flying. "Militant Sasha? Zero-tolerance-for-idiots-Sasha? Yeah, match made in heaven." He said sarcastically. "What? Did she tell you liked him?"

"No." She answered defensively as she retreated to her pages, "But I saw her one day after they came back from patrol. She walked away from him and she was smiling."

"Well, Abe is funny as shit." Rick admitted, "I'll give him that."

"Unh unh." Michonne clarified, "She was smiling too hard and too long after she walked away from him."

"Well, I don't know what you saw, but… c'mon 'Chonne! Rosita ain't having that. I mean that would be one bad ass battle to the death…"

"Oh, don't be such a _guy_! I can't see them fighting over him." Michonne interrupted.

"And I can't see Abraham being Sasha's type." Rick said, bringing the debate to a close as he left the kitchen and headed for the shower still tickled by the impossibility of the pairing.

Two weeks later, Sasha and Abraham were a couple, walking together hand in hand, no less. When they passed Michonne and Rick, who were just exiting the house to spend a breezy evening on their porch, Sasha waved, Abraham nodded and Michonne and Rick followed suit. Rick was silent as they both sat down alongside each other. Michonne pretended to read her book.

"Mm." she hummed in victory just loud enough for Rick to hear.

"Alright, alright." He hushed her while blushing at the failure of his reasoning.

That instance and many others like it had taught Rick to nod and smile when Michonne told him something, because she was right. But now, lying face to face and kissing her in the shadows of their bedroom, he was pretty sure she was wrong.

"Come on, boo." She whispered in his ear with a vampish timbre.

 _Batteries… 9 more packs. We got enough soap. Finding more baby wipes couldn't hurt…_ Rick was only giving her half his attention to avoid losing control of himself. He decided to do a mental inventory of house supplies while she kissed him wantonly and ran her fingers through his hair.

"We shouldn't, Michonne." He muttered against her aggressive lips. "The doctor said…"

Michonne enveloped him passionately and sighed deeply with fatigue, "Pleeeease." She begged seductively and grabbed his arm, settling his palm firmly on the part of her body she knew to be his favorite. Once she had his hand squeezing her butt, she brought her fingers to her nipples. She could barely feel the rolling motion she was applying since she had been breastfeeding the twins and her skin was numb from the wear and tear. This display was less about getting herself in the mood and more about breaking Rick's will to abstain for the entire six weeks Dr. James had stipulated.

It was safe to say that Michonne didn't need any more arousal. Morgan was filling in for Rick while he was on a break from his duties. The new father of four was enjoying spending time, bonding and helping his wife with their newborn babies. For the first time in a while, she was seeing him all day, everyday and it was making her crazy. Rick's soapy scent, the fit of his jeans, the lashes over the blue of his eyes, the way his tongue glided over his perfect lips when he licked them as he spoke, the flex of his toes when he put on his socks, the sleeve of his t-shirt hugging his bicep, the veins that bulged in his forearm when he opened the fridge, his fucking jaw line, covered in gray. Everything... everything about him gave her the naughtiest thoughts all day, every damn day. It was torture of the cruelest kind, in her opinion.

She was legitimately imploring him as she fondled herself but Rick refused to look at her body for fear he'd cave. He closed his eyes, "I can't baby. Just let me take care of you like I've been." He reached between her thighs and, pressing firmly on her clit, started to strum causing Michonne to moan the most desperate sound he'd ever heard.

"Oh, swee'heart." He felt for her, "It's only three more weeks."

Just the thought of three more weeks of waiting pissed her off. Michonne grabbed his wrist and moved his hand. "NO! Rick, that's not gonna cut it and I'm not waiting three more weeks!" Her temper flared. "I told you, I haven't bled in six days. I know my body. With Andre I waited two weeks and it was fine. I know you're trying to protect me. Thank you... I love you... but I don't need protection. I need you inside me." She held his face with sincerity. "Trust me, boo. I'm ready. I need you sooooo bad." She jerked her body shamelessly, throwing a childish tantrum.

He thought back to how Lori was after they'd had Carl. Rick would've begged her for sex if he thought it would've made difference. But Lori absolutely waited the full six weeks and another six for good measure and another six because she was, understandably, exhausted. She didn't have Rick around to help her. His hours were long at work and Carl had been colicky that second and third month. When they finally did have sex again, she insisted on wearing her robe because she wasn't happy with her body after childbirth. She brought her hands up to shield her breasts every time Rick went near them. She seemed so disconnected. Rick was fine with waiting until she was ready. He wanted her to do whatever she needed to feel comfortable. But there's no denying he would have preferred her to be a little…

okay…

a lot more like Michonne was now.

And here he was turning down this gorgeous goddess with such a sinfully sweet henna hue. It began to dawn on him that he was arguing with the all-wise Michonne- who was currently naked in his hands- about whether or not he should climb on top of her and give her everything he'd been saving up for her. He was surprised at how wrong it felt to tell her no.

Rick did the math: Dr. James put Michonne on bed rest 3 weeks before she actually gave birth, to ensure the likelihood that she'd carry the babies to term. And now- 3 weeks later- Michonne had really been starving for him over a month. She was an obedient patient, though, taking the health of those babies seriously. All that time she never complained. Rick was reasoning to himself, _She's been a real good girl._

"I've been good." She seemed to echo his thoughts. "All day we're juggling the Tater-tots, Judith, visitors. We're finally getting little breaks in the chaos with the babies settled on a schedule and we're not gonna waste this time!" Her voice started to crack, her hormones still raging, "This isn't fair."

Dr. Leslie James had been Michonne's choice to deliver the babies. Rick wanted her to go with another doctor who he thought was a more qualified M.D. but Michonne had bonded with the 60-ish, fair-skinned, mid-wife who sported a foot high, completely white afro. Dr. James was from Oceanside and wore a dozen necklaces with beads and seashells and countless bangles on her wrists. She spoke with a Jamaican accent normally but she spoke much thicker Patois when she became excitable.

Michonne said Dr. James reminded her of her grandmother: eccentric, old school and frisky. She labeled Dr. James a cougar in sheep's clothing and thought that she seemed to have an appetite for Alexandria's most pious- Father Gabriel. Rick thought that was insane but he kept his reservations to himself regarding both matches- that of the potential lovers and the doctor/patient relationship Michonne was so keen on. He really just felt lucky to have more than one option for his wife's care since options were so rare nowadays.

After Michonne's third prenatal visit Rick fell in love with Dr. James too. She called him "Mistah Dahddi Rick" in her Caribbean pronunciation and designated Michonne as "Mah-mi Lady". Rick could tell that Dr. James obviously knew her stuff, but so did Michonne. So now, with two intelligent women giving him opposite instructions, he was embroiled in quite the dilemma.

Rick looked at Michonne, now, in their bed, really examining her for any signs to help him decide either way on the case she was making. Her body looked pretty much like it did before the babies, except for the few pounds she'd gained which only made him even hungrier to touch her. Her little pouch of a stomach made him recall her first trimester when they had been so excited to see the gradual changes of her body.

Rick always thought a woman round with child was a beautiful thing. The fact that it was Michonne stirred his heart even more. The fact that she carried part of him was like a dream that he never expected. And the fact that he had deposited two separate destinies deep inside the vessel he worshiped more than any other was a blessing he was sure he didn't deserve.

After the babies were born in Alexandria's best version of a labor and delivery ward- a small room a few doors down from the infirmary equipped with lots of borrowed equipment from every group within a 20 mile radius. Dr. James had congratulated the couple on what she called "De most bor'n double delivery in all of time." The mid-wife said as she left Michonne and Rick teary-eyed and smiling down at the peaceful little bundles they each held. "Whole time, mi coulda take a nap". Through the entire delivery, Michonne never lost control, though she was slicked in sweat and Rick could tell by the grip of her quivering hand in his that she was well past her threshold for pain.

"Oh my god…" She had protested when the first of the serious contractions hit her. She had never felt pain like that. "Rick!" She grabbed at him, trying to latch onto something steady before the pain swept her from her balance as she walked the hallways to aid her dilation. Once the intense tightening across her abdomen filtered down into her back and faded away, she exhaled deeply and forced a smiled to lessen his worry,

"THAT hurt! A lot! ... I didn't know." She panted, "I got that good old epidural with Andre and he came so quick." As she attempted to explain the feeling of the contraction to him, another nasty one seized her. He was distressed at hearing her groan in agony when contractions started coming in such quick succession she could barely catch her breath, but he was also proud and amazed that she was so strong and determined.

Three hours later, Rick leaned over and kissed her damp salty forehead after a particularly taxing contraction and asked, "Baby, you ok?"

Michonne managed a soft curve at the corner of her mouth and through short quick breaths she nodded and said only one word,

"Excited."

Tonight, Rick was taking into account her undeniable strength, the miracle he'd witnessed her body accomplish, his experience with her unbelievable libido and mostly her record of unfaltering common sense as he mulled over her request to give her what he, honestly, knew she needed.

"Ok." He spoke in a voice so low she could barely hear.

"Ok?" She perked, wiping her eyes

"But I'm gonna go easy, just in case."

Michonne smiled wide as Rick moved into position between her legs. He wrapped his arm around the small of her back sliding her closer to him. Her body was screaming, but she whispered to him innocently, "You don't have to."

"But I am." He said sternly above her as she pouted and smiled at the same time.


	2. Chapter 2

Rick's eyes closed and a lazy "Ffffuuuck" dropped off of his tongue and fell into Michonne's parted lips. The smile she had vanished and she wrinkled her face, inhaling sharply at the feeling of him reclaiming the hot, sopping canal that would lead them both to paradise.

Rick was true to his word. He set out at a very timid pace, barely putting any weight on her. He was feeding her like a newborn kitten off the tip of his finger. The morsels were delicious but it only made her greedy for more and Michonne had never been a kitten. She was a tigress and his empty thrusts were no more than a mockery of what Michonne was used to getting from him. She made allowance for him, though. It had been a while since he'd enjoyed her as well. _Must be doing his best version of that Keith Sweat song- trying to 'make it last forever',_ She hummed the tune in her head, smiling up at him.

And she was enjoying it...

until she wasn't. So she decided to give him a little encouragement.

"Rick?" She called his name flatly. "Baby, what are you doing?"

"Michonne." He stopped her before she started, "This is what you're get'n. I'm not risk'n it."

Michonne jerked her head back into the pillow a little jolted by his authoritative tone and, damn him, even more turned on. She ignored his declaration, grabbed him by the hips, chuckling and pulling him to her center.

"Uh unh, 'Chonne. Stop." Rick warned her and stiffened his muscles to resist her. He raised her arms over her head and pinned them down, holding her delicate wrists together in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Rick, but..." She purred glibly, snapping up to bite at him when he brought his face close to hers "...you're gonna... have... to... _FUCK_... me."

Now he smirked. "Tha's what you want?" The beckoning sound of her voice, the clean smell of her skin, the peachy taste of her mouth, the narcotic feel of her form beneath him- she was doing a number on him. A serious number.

"That's what I said." Michonne taunted him and lifted her hips pressing her pelvis against his.

"Alright." Rick rasped at her, flashing his teeth like a predator in moonlight. "I will."

He slipped his arms under her hips, raising her knees and feet in the air on either side of himself. He passively dipped inside her, and when she opened her mouth for another slick remark, he shut her up- filling her sunken place with long marble inches. He shook her entire body, repeatedly drilling into her core with the motion of an oil derrick, driving her into the mattress.

"Yessssss…" She hissed. But after a few of those beastly strokes, her tune changed, "Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!" Each prayer louder than the one before.

Rick put his hand, covered with brave scratches and scars, over her mouth. "The babies." He reminded her, the steam from his tongue tickling her ear. But Rick was showing off, advancing the bullish head of his dick against her surging wet walls, rolling his torso and winding the small of his back. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, leaving him red all across his brawny upper body.

Michonne grew silent, though her mouth went wide. Acting on reflex, her fingers traveled up his neck, yanking his silken mane. "Tha's right." He growled through the discomfort, knowing exactly where she was heading... and a split second later, Rick felt the crushing proof of her pleasure spilling out, dousing her glorious ass and his balls with her thin opalescent syrup.

"Satisfied?" He asked her, smugly, as she smoothed his damp hair off his forehead.

"Very." Michonne answered in a short exhale, still catching her breath, eyes barely open and drunk off her orgasm.

"Nah, swee'heart." Rick corrected her. "Said you wanted me to fuck you. Right?" He licked his lips in anticipation, "I haven't fucked you yet."

He flipped her over onto her stomach and dove in again, making Michonne squeal in surprise. Thinking about her reception to what he had just done to her and all the ambitions he possessed for round two, he looked down at her sleek ebony back and the plush pillowy cakes of flesh under his control to revel for a brief moment. Then bringing one of her legs up to rest in the crook of his arm, he went to work again. Giving her a taste of her own medicine, he caught her by the hair, pulling until she levitated from the sheets.

"You like... that... huh?" The words staggered out of him with ragged breath. "What you... wanted... right?"

He heckled her request for this corporal punishment and boasted in her inability to respond with a coherent answer. She could only whine sharply at the end of his wild stroke. The sound of applause from their colliding bodies was well deserved and it threatened to see Rick spent but Michonne beat him to it. She came again- in half the time- leaving her legs shaky and her vision spotty.

But Rick still wasn't done.

He stood up from the bed and dragged her by an ankle, toward him. He cupped her meaty stretch-marked cheeks and lifted her onto his ever-ready rod, slick and stiff as a tuning fork. Michonne could only hold on as his flexed forearms sent her higher aloft his jacked, throbbing cock and the divine law of gravity wedged him further inside her every time he dropped her onto the curve of his length, accosting her g-spot.

"God!" She gasped. "Rick!" She popped as her eyes rolled back.

"Make up your mind." He quipped with a sexy swagger as he spun around and threw her back against the wall, with her wrists tight in his grasp and pinned next to her head, he pounded away at her core.

He was so deep and so delicious. Michonne was past pleasure and Rick could tell. She was always right about everything else, but if the challenge was making his woman come, he needed no crib notes. All it took was all he'd been born with and that convinced him every time they made love that, if God was real, he was currently 100% pro-Rick Grimes.

He let her wrists go so he could hook his arm around her waist and pull her close. Finally free, her hands went straight to the nape of his neck. He felt a distinctly dominant current traveling through him causing him to grip her thigh with his other hand in a boorish manner that made Michonne wince at the pressure. Rick let out a muffled howl between her breasts and left a tingling mess inside her. His convulsing cock ruined her effectively and she crashed into a climax that left her in tears.

She didn't dare let go of him, legs crossed like a bow around the gift of his perfect behind. Still holding her tight with one arm and bracing the wall behind her with the other, he worked on regaining his composure. All the smart talk was done. They were both speechless. Until he lowered her and Michonne's feet fell to the floor, causing her to give a clear yelp of pain.

"What?" Rick lightly touched her hips, not knowing where she hurt.

Michonne held onto his shoulder. "Shit." She whispered, embarrassed, "I can't stand up."

"What?" Rick questioned again, though he heard her fine the first time. "What's wrong?"

"Ah!" She bit her lip. "It hurts when I put my weight on my feet."

"What hurts? Your legs?" The space between Rick's eyes knotted.

"Uhh. No..." She tried to take a step, "Ah! It's like… maybe… I don't know! But it hurts down there." She inclined her chin toward the space between her legs that he'd just pillaged and plundered.

"See, Chonne. I knew it! We should have waited!" He nervously ran his hand over his beard, while he kept her from falling over with the other. "Look. Just sit down."

She didn't address his reprimand as she attempted to sit on the bed "Ow, ow, ow!" She breathed out plaintively, "I can't. I can't sit down." trying to work up a little more sympathy and less scolding from the love of her life.

"Oh my god. Fuck! See what you made me do?" Rick fussed in a panic. He was too upset about her being in pain to give her any grace. "I'm going to get Dr. James."

"No way! Rick, it's the middle of the night!" Michonne protested.

"Put this on." He helped her into his shirt. "Can you lay down?"

"Uhhh… ow… owwwww."

Rick laid Michonne down and threw something on his nude body. "I'm gonna to go get her."

"Rick, no!" Michonne tried to call him back in a whisper but he walked out into the hallway… and, presumably, out into the street, in nothing but his boxers and boots. Michonne was powerless to stop him. She lay there, on her back, virtually paralyzed. What could she do but cover her face with her hands in disbelief? She gave a tiny giggle. She was not in so much pain that she couldn't find the humor of her circumstances.

Out on the streets of Alexandria, Rick commenced a jog, heading a few houses down to where the mid-wife was staying with Tara. She planned to be there until Michonne's six week check-up just in case there were any complications.

Daryl was coming back from the wall on a 7-11 shift, when he heard the clod of Rick's boots hitting the asphalt and saw Michonne's husband running in the middle of the street more naked than he'd like his fearless leader to be.

"Hey! Rick!" He called a few yards forward to his friend's back. Rick turned briefly and Daryl rushed to meet him. "Hey, man, you okay? You sleepwalkin' or some shit."

"Naw. It's Michonne."

Daryl heard the worry in Rick's voice and it was contagious.

"What, man? She sick?"

It hit Rick, then, that he couldn't tell Daryl what had actually happened. Michonne would have his head. So he skipped answering the question and employed Daryl to fetch Dr. James and bring her back to his house so he could go back and wait with Michonne.

Once back in the house, Rick ran upstairs and swung the door to their room open. "You any better?" He asked, rushing to her side and placing a hand on her leg, subconsciously hoping to heal her.

"No." She answered. "Still can't sit or stand. But you know what would make me feel a little better?"

"What, honey?" He stood alert and eager.

"If you put on some clothes and stop parading my goodies through the streets." She said with a sly smile that calmed Rick just a bit.

"Well, Daryl's getting the doctor." He told her as he grabbed up some jeans and a shirt.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah. I ran into him." Michonne rolled her eyes and sighed with displeasure. Rick tried to assuage her, "I didn't tell him anything. Don't worry." Feeling guilty, he took a seat in the window sill on the other side of the room, sitting as far away from her as possible while still keeping watch over her like a sentinel.

Neither of them said anything for a few moments as they waited for help to come.

Michonne just laid there thinking, _This is unreal. Maybe I'm getting too old for this or... Damn! This man is really packing a lethal weapon... This is some wild shit... It was worth it though_. She smiled to herself and glanced over at her husband, _Look at him._ Her eyes began to well, _I love him so much. Oh my God... Get a hold of yourself, Michonne._ She moved her eyes off Rick to stare at her hands resting at her midsection. _Daryl better not say a word when I see him, I swear to God._

Then Rick started to speak,

"Babe, if you're…" but before he could finish, he heard Dr. James' jewelry tinkling in the house and what sounded like a group of people murmuring to each other and pair after pair of feet bounding the steps up to their room. The two of them looked at each other wondering who else could be with her. Michonne was dying of embarrassment already but Rick was just happy the doctor was there.

Michonne could imagine what Dr. James would say. _Here we go_ , she thought. She knew they were both about to be in big trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. James entered their bedroom, followed by Tara, Daryl, Gabriel and with all the commotion, Carl came around the corner from his room with a weary-eyed Judith in his arms.

"What the hell, Daryl?" Rick whispered, inclining his head for privacy and grabbing his friend to pull him to the side.

"Sorry, man. I went to Tara's to get her, but she was at Gabriel's house. Then Tara followed me there and Gabriel followed us here." Daryl explained in a hushed tone, "You know everybody's gonna come runnin' if they think Michonne's in trouble."

Rick understood that and nodded, turning his attention back to Michonne and Dr, James. "Ok, Mah-mi Lady. Wah ya got fa' mi? Ya run hot?" Dr. James inquired calmly as to Michonne's condition as she removed all her rings and bracelets and went to the bathroom to scrub her hands.

"No. She doesn't have a fever. Just in some pain." Rick answered for Michonne as he nervously followed Dr. James around the room.

"Michonne?" Carl called to her from the doorway.

"I'm Okay." she assured him.

"Is there anything we can do?" Tara asked.

"I'm fine. Really." Michonne reiterated.

Tara was still concerned. "What happened?"

Michonne and Rick gave the same sheepish glance to each other as Dr. James came out the bathroom. "A'right. Need 'cha all ta cut ya way out.

"What?" Carl whispered to Tara. He could never understand what Dr. James said. Normally he just smiled and nodded but with Michonne laying there needing help, he needed clarity.

"She wants us out." Gabriel translated as he directed everyone to the hallway. "Leslie, Is there anything you need." he asked the midwife.

"Mi jes gwaan' check. All mi need t'is mi ah bit'ta space." Dr. James turned to Rick and ordered with a disciplinary expression, "But Mistah Dahddi Grimes?" She formalized the nickname she had granted him, using his surname instead of his first, "You haffi stay." She brought her finger back and forth in the space between her and him and threatened, "Mi tink us ah gwaan haffi fight."

Once everyone else left the room the doctor began to investigate. "What's got ya pain'n, Mah-mi Lady?"

Michonne explained what she felt and where. Dr. James did a quick pelvic exam. Her diagnosis: A bruised cervix. A few days of bed rest would suffice... after a serious reprimand.

The mid-wife turned to Rick again, obviously bewildered. "T'ought me tol'ya stay offa dis woman, eh? Did ya 'ear me?" She pinched his ear and Rick hung his head in shame. "Me tol'ya 6 weeks!" Dr. James presented her open right hand and the thumb on her left hand to Rick for a visual. "Six! Ya nah count, eh? De sun come up, de sun come up again... das a day! Need'n seven ah dem fah make a week." She clapped her hands loudly for emphasis. "Six weeks, den you 'av de sugar. Nah before!"

Rick hoped no one else in the house could hear Dr. James letting him have it, but she continued without discretion. "Mi nah know what ah monstah ya hang down dere 'tween ya legs, Mistah Dahddi Grimes." She swung her entire arm between her legs, limp, like an elephant's nose making Rick blush at her graphic phallic portrayal, "Maybe das de reason ya go all bow-legg'd, eh?" She pointed directly at him with a squint of her eye, "But ya haffi keep de monstah undah key! Lock it, yah 'ear?! Lawd'ah mercy!"

Michonne was secretly cracking up at Rick's being blamed and chastised for her impatience. Her pelvic floor paid the price for each giggle but she couldn't help it. Rick was red enough to stop traffic and so contrite. Dr. James, however, was no fool.

"Eh, you tink dis funny, Mah-mi Lady? Mi know him nah do dis wid'out cha. Come now, don't ya let dem pretty blue eyes an' dem dah'k curls, make a cripple outcha." Dr. James fluttered her lashes in a sarcastic romantic display, mocking Michonne. "Now do mi haffi stay 'ere and sleep 'tween you and he all de nights 'til de times up?"

"No." Rick's dry mouth whispered nervously. He cleared his throat. "No ma'am."

"En you, Miss Mah-mi Lady? You gwaan be good or 'ave a rock fah ya brain?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be good." Michonne answered, still trying to suppress her smile.

Dr. James stayed a few more minutes. Explaining some home remedies to Michonne to help with the pain. When Dr. James opened the door to leave the room, Rick could see the hallway was full of blushing faces. Tara left the awkward situation as soon as Rick opened the door. But Gabriel was waiting for Dr. James. Judith had gone back to sleep, comfortable in her brother's arms. Carl stood there, trying to decipher what the mid-wife had said and why Daryl was laughing. Daryl stayed because, well, because he's Daryl and if he can make fun of the two love birds- he can't resist.

"Damn, Rick." Daryl was the first to say, "I'm impressed. Even if they take your .45, nobody can't never say you ain't a armed and dangerous, man." He laughed and slapped Rick on his back, chuckling too much to notice that Rick was kicking him out.

Michonne's voice came from the room, "Shut up, Daryl!"

"I'm disappointed in you Michonne." Daryl hollered back over his shoulder. "Can't believe he took down the queen!"

"Get out!" Michonne reached for Rick's pillow and hurled it at the door, inflicting pain on herself with the movement.

Daryl broke free of Rick's leadings and ran back for one more taunting jest, peeking his head into the room, "Get well soon!" He gave her a wicked smile.

"She's gonna get you once she's better." Rick warned him, pushing him downstairs towards the door.

Carl walked past Daryl's police escort and entered the room, still worried about Michonne. "You okay?" He asked her quietly.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Don't worry." She comforted him, peeking around his back to see Judith drooling on his shoulder. "Thank God, Judith went back to sleep and the twins didn't wake up through all of this." She said as she tried to adjust herself to a more comfortable position under the sheets.

"Here. Let me get that." Carl offered and propped a pillow behind her neck. "You know, whenever you guys are... you know _,"_ he worked up the nerve to say, _"_ I get kinda worried. It sounds dangerous."

Michonne's face went gray. "Oh my god, Carl!" She covered her mouth in shame and whispered, "You can hear us?" She was mortified.

"Sometimes." He said, unable to meet her eyes, he rubbed Judith's back instinctively. "I definitely heard you guys tonight."

Michonne agonized at the thought. "Sorry?" She offered, scrunching her shoulders and grimacing at the conversation.

.

"It's okay. Just be careful in here... and quieter." Embarrassed for himself and Michonne, he tried to slip out quickly before Rick came back and made things 100 times more awkward. A little too slow, he was leaving the room as Rick was entering.

"She okay?" Rick asked Carl as he picked up his pillow. His son nodded to answer. "Are you? I mean... we can talk... if you… you know... I mean… if you need to." Rick whispered, cautiously and reluctantly.

"I'm okay, dad, Good night." Carl swore as he eyed the floor, eager to make his escape.

Rick closed the door and looked at his wife in disappointment, shaking his head.

"Rick, I **know** you're not shaking your head at _me_." She said, quickly trying to find a way to put the blame all on his shoulders.

Rick was taken aback, "You and only you." He promised.

"Ok, yes, I initiated." She conceded, "But you... obviously, did too much."

Rick breathed out a short, "Ha! You..." He started to speak but decided that was too ridiculous to dignify. He just shook his head.

Michonne hated when he did that. "Come on. What? What are you going to say?" She demanded, almost a dare.

Rick just shook his head again, and turned the corners of his mouth down indifferently. "Nothin'. Doesn't matter. You're right, right?"

Michonne felt uneasy claiming that win. She could hear the rebuttal to his own words in his tone . But she had run out of leverage. Then she remembered, "Before Dr. James came in you started to say something."

"What?"

"I don't know. You said 'Babe, if you're' ... but you never finished."

"Oh," Rick remembered and smiled wickedly, "I was gonna say if you turn out to be fine... which you did... I get bragg'n rights forever on this one."

"Bragging rights? Ok... Ok... Mistah Dahddi Rick." She did her best Dr. James impression. "You can put that notch in your belt. I know Daryl will never shut up about it. He's right. You _are_ armed and dangerous." She clapped with raillery.

"Naw, not bragg'n rights 'bout that." Rick waved inattentively at that premise. "You knew that already." He winked in her direction and turned off the light. Leaving only the moon and the baby monitor to illuminate their faces, he climbed in bed next to her. His cockiness making her wish she could set her pussy right on his lips to shut him up.

"So what do you get bragging rights for, then?" She asked with skeptical eyes as he lay down face to face with her.

Rick was proud to answer, "We should have waited. I was right and you were wrong... so wrong... I mean as wrong as a person can be... a whole 'nother level of..."

Michonne kissed his lips, "Hush!" she ordered, giggling in pain. "Ugh!" She sighed in desperation, "Three more weeks!"

"Yeah, 'bout that… When I walked her out, Dr. James said since you called down the thunder and got... well... 'wrecked by the storm'-" he chuckled, "you have to wait a whole 'nother 6 weeks, start'n today."

"No, she didn't." Michonne refused to believe it.

"She did." Rick assured her.

"No. I'll do 3 more weeks and that's it. She's not getting more than that!" She protested. Rick laughed as she fiercely negotiated the non-negotiable. "And why are you laughing? That means you have to wait too." She reminded him. "I know you want to make this about me, but don't act like I had to twist your arm to turn you into King Kong tonight. I said fuck me, not kill me. Damn!" Her words were coming like rapid fire from an automatic weapon. Rick continued to laugh at her irritation. "Seriously, Rick. What the hell is so funny?"

He rolled on his back and put his hands behind his head, relaxing, "I was just messing with you. She didn't add 3 weeks."

Michonne inhaled in shock and pinched his forearm for revenge. "Oh, you got jokes? Ok." She squared up. "Every day that I have to wait, you'll be on round the clock diaper duty."

Now Rick was wounded. His relaxing postured changed quickly as he turned to face her again. "C'mon, 'Chonne."

She didn't answer.

"Baby?" Rick pleaded.

Michonne ignored him again.

"Baby, don't be like that." He sweetly traced her chin in the dark, trying to gain favor.

"I'm sleep." She finally answered. "We'll talk in 3 weeks, Mistah Dahddi."

And that was that.


End file.
